


Expected Disaster

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-15
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: "Thought, like all potent weapons, is exceedingly dangerous if mishandled. Clear thinking is therefore desirable not only in order to develop the full potentialities of the mind, but also to avoid disaster."-Giles St. Aubyn





	Expected Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_And I feel like I’m living the worst day_  
over and over again  
And I feel like the summer is leaving again  
I feel like I’m living the worst day  
I feel like you’re gone  
And every day is the worst day ever

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”� Hermione called as she entered the flat. She heard the sound of metal hitting the ground and immediately narrowed her eyes. “Ron?”� Hermione called warily. She sniffed the air. Something smelled odd. Muffin came running up to her, tongue hanging out of her mouth. Hermione grinned as she set her bags down and picked up the puppy. They’d gotten Muffin at Christmas, a gift to themselves. Carrying Muffin, Hermione called Ron’s name once more. 

 

“Hermione?”� Ron cried. The boy was a mess. Covered in flour and… “Ron,”� Hermione asked quietly, “Why is half of your sleeve missing?”� 

 

Ron looked shocked at the question and turned to look down at his sleeve. He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess it is. I dunno. Hey, why are you home so early, Mione?”� 

 

“I managed to escape and have someone cover for me so I could come home. Did you not want me to?”� 

 

Ron ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, “No, no, it’s fine. Er, yeah. Totally fine.”� 

 

Hermione caught another treacherous whiff of something awful. “Ron,”� she asked peering at the kitchen door, “Are you… cooking?”� 

 

“What? No! No, I’m not. Er, why don’t you go change? And sleep. Yeah, go sleep. You look exhausted. And, er yeah.”� Ron was now shoving Hermione towards the bedroom door. 

 

“I’m not tired!”� She cried, dropping Muffin as she was shoved into the room. 

 

“Good night, Mione. See you in a few hours!”� Ron closed the door and locked it, cursing himself. Hopefully she’d be happy enough later to forget about this. Knowing his magic alone wouldn’t suffice, Ron moved some chairs in front of the door to make sure Hermione couldn’t get out. 

 

“Ronald Weasley!”� She cried through the door, banging on it. “If you don’t let me out this second, I swear….”� Ron didn’t hear the rest of it as he cast a silencing charm on the room. There. That was better. Something pawed at his leg. Ron looked down and found Muffin whining at the door. He glared at the puppy, “No. You be quiet,”� he said sternly before stalking back into the kitchen. 

 

Ginny was standing there, looking worse off than Ron, hands on hips. “What did you do with her?”� 

 

“Locked her in the room.”� Ron said as quietly as he could, avoiding eye contact with his sister. 

 

“You prat,”� Ginny sighed, not bothering to question her brother’s judgment. He was in a foul mood, but he had enough sense not to get Hermione mad. So, him doing this had to have some sort of reasoning behind it. Turning back to the messy kitchen, she said with a sigh, “So. What do we do now?”� 

 

“Hey. You’re the girl, here. Shouldn’t you know how to cook?”� Ron asked. 

 

“Mum never taught me,”� Ginny said defiantly. “Has Harry told you nothing about our meal situation? Frozen food is about the most we do, and that’s if we want to do something special. Have you ever gotten food from the Chinese take-out place near Kings’ Cross? It’s amazing, I’m telling you. Oh, you’ve got to get the,”� 

 

“You can’t cook!”� Ron cried.

 

“Er, no.”� Ginny replied as she rolled her eyes. She looked at Ron’s expression and laughed, “Oh. That’s funny. You actually thought I could make dinner. I thought you were just being an idiot or something. Oh, this is rich.”� 

 

“Not funny, Gin.”� Ron grumbled as he looked around his messy kitchen. He sighed as he considered his options. His girlfriend was extremely angry and locked up in their bedroom. His sister couldn’t cook, and somehow he thought that this bad beginning wasn’t going to get much better. “Can you clean up, or is that too hard for you, too? I need to go and quickly get some frozen food.”� 

 

Ginny laughed as Ron walked out of the kitchen, mumbling to himself. Her eyes suddenly widened as she looked around her. “Oi! Ron! You want me to clean all of this?”� All she heard, though, was the door slammed. Ginny sighed and pulled out her wand. “Now what in Merlin’s name were those spells Mum taught me?”� 

 

\- - - 

 

“These really are good marshmallows,”� Fred said leaning back in the kitchen chair. 

 

“They are. And so many of them, too. You pick good payment, Gin.”� George said, stuffing a few in his mouth. 

 

“It was all I could find in our idiot brother’s cabinets.”� Ginny said as she popped a marshmallow in her mouth. 

 

George swallowed and asked in a curious tone, “So what was with the mess anyways?”� 

 

“Ron wanted me to help him cook dinner. I thought he was joking or that he wanted me to tell him how to use an oven or something, not that I’m entirely sure how to. But, he actually wanted to cook. Like, food.”� 

 

“That’s odd. Ron cooking? You cooking? For what? Did he say?”� 

 

“Nope. He did lock Hermione in their room, though. She’s still in there. Wonder what it means. Ideas?”� 

 

“Is ickle Ronniekins growing up?”� Fred asked, a grin spreading across his face. 

 

George grinned along with his brother, “No. Not our Ron.”� 

 

“It seems like it. I mean, cooking?”� Fred said raising his eyebrows. 

 

“What are you lot on about?”� Ginny interrupted, irritated. 

 

Neither had a chance tot say more, though, for the flat door opened and they could all hear the angry mutterings of their brother. He stormed into the kitchen with a large brown bag. He set it down on the table and dumped out a few boxes of food. 

 

“Hello to you, too, dearest brother,”� Fred said with a grin. 

 

“What are you both doing here?”� Ron asked without turning around. 

 

“Ginny forgot those cleaning spells and called us over. These are excellent marshmallows by the way.”� George replied, eating a couple more. 

 

“Excellent marshmallows, my,”� Ron stopped suddenly and whirled around. “YOU IDIOTS!”� He grabbed the marshmallows from them. He looked as if he were about to cry when he saw the sight of two rather pathetic marshmallows sitting at the bottom of the bag. “Why?”� He croaked. 

 

Ginny’s eyes widened, “Ron? Are you alright?”� 

 

“Oh, geez. Sorry, Ron. Didn’t know you were partial to that bag of…marshmallows.”� George said, slowly standing up. “Erm, really sorry mate.”� 

 

Fred, too, had stood up and was cautiously edging towards the door, “Yeah, really sorry, Ron. Can we, er, get you another bag of…marshmallows?”� 

 

“No, god damn it!”� Ron said through clenched teeth, “All the bloody stores close early on Valentine’s Day. I had to stand there banging on the door for ten minutes before someone opened the door!”� 

 

Fred started to chuckle, but a quick threatening look from Ron turned the laugh into a cough. 

 

Ron sighed and, eating the last two marshmallows, threw away the bag. He turned to them, eyebrows raised, “So, where’s the chocolate?”� 

 

The other three Weasleys exchanged looks. “Er, chocolate?”� George asked warily. 

 

“Yeah,”� Ron said, narrowing his eyes, “What did you do with that bag of chocolates right next to the marshmallows?”� 

 

Ginny looked to the open cabinet, “There were chocolates there? We didn’t eat them, Ron. I don’t even remember seeing them.”� 

 

“Are you sure? They were definitely there.”� Ron said, frantically opening all the cabinets in the kitchen. 

 

“RONALD!”� Hermione’s signature “If-you-don’t-get-your-arse-over-here-this-minute-I’m-going-to-hex-you-into-the-next-eon”� shriek. 

 

A terrified look crossed the other three Weasleys’ faces. “Er, Ron,”� George started.

 

Fred grabbed his twin by that arm, and sped towards the door, “Lovely seeing you Ronniekins. Must be leaving now.”� 

 

Ginny stood stock still before bolting for the door, “Bye Ron!”� She called as she slammed the door behind her, following in Fred and George’s wake. 

 

Ron gulped as Hermione called his name once more. She was closer, now. He took a step out from the kitchen and into the living room. How in Merlin’s name had she gotten out of that room? 

 

Hermione was standing in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, glaring furiously at Ron. “Why did you lock me in there?”� She demanded. 

 

Ron swallowed hard before squeakily replying, “I, er, thought you needed to sleep.”� 

 

“Really?”� Hermione asked skeptically. 

 

“Yeah. In fact, you’re still looking tired. Do you want to go rest some more?”� Ron asked with a hopeful look. 

 

“No.”� 

 

“Oh, okay. How’d you get out, anyways?”� 

 

“Oh, please, Ronald. It wasn’t that hard. I figured I’d give you a couple hours to sort out an excuse and apology.”�

 

“Well, I thought it was a pretty good spell.”� Ron muttered.

 

Hermione peered behind Ron into the kitchen. Ron defensively took a step forward. Hermione craned her neck over his shoulder, trying to see. She tried to push him, “Move, Ron. Why won’t you let me see what’s in there?”�

 

“It’s, er, messy. I need to clean up.”� 

 

Hermione looked skeptical once more, but stepped back. She gestured towards the door. “I swear I’ll never understand what goes on in your head. Go on, then.”� 

 

Ron didn’t bother replying but ran into the kitchen. He stuffed the unopened frozen food boxes into the brown bag and put them in the cabinet of pots and pans they never used. Well, at least, he never used them. Looking around quickly, he put away the plates and the candles with the brown bag. He closed the cabinets, and put the chairs in their proper place. With a quick glance around the kitchen, Ron strode out into the living room once more. Gesturing into the kitchen, he bowed slightly, “Your highness.”� 

 

Hermione scoffed but didn’t say anything. She stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, as if she were expecting something to happen. Suddenly she turned to Ron. “Where’s Muffin?”� 

 

Ron looked confused, “Muff–oh. The dog, Muffin. I dunno. Haven’t seen her in the past couple hours.”� 

 

Hermione looked worried and dashed out of the kitchen back into the living room. Ron groaned inwardly. No, not another thing. Please let the stupid dog be okay. 

 

“RON!”� Hermione cried. 

 

This time, Ron groaned aloud. The dog couldn’t take care of itself, could it? No, it had to ruin his plans. Every single bloody–“RONALD!”� Hermione shrieked again, disrupting Ron’s thoughts. 

 

He jogged through the living room to where Hermione was in front of the bathroom door. Muffin was lying there, not looking too happy, with a bag of chocolates in front of her. She stole the chocolates? Oh that dog was in for it. 

 

“My chocolates!”� Ron cried. 

 

Hermione glared at him, cradling Muffin, “They’re _yours_? You _fed_ our _dog chocolates_!”� She cried, smoothing down Muffin’s fur. 

 

“I didn’t give them to her! She stole them, that little wretch.”�

 

“You idiot! Dogs can’t eat chocolate!”� She walked into the living room, still cradling Muffin. Muffin. What kind of name was that, anyways? That stupid flea-bitten mongrel should have been called something like Pest or Annoyance or Evil or something. Not Muffin. 

 

Ron ran a hand through his hair but followed Hermione. Today was just getting worse and worse. Hermione was still muttering about what Ron had done to her blessed puppy. 

 

“I can’t believe you fed her chocolates, Ron.”� Hermione accused. On and on about that _stupid_ dog. She just wouldn’t stop. Hermione kept on talking about how stupid he was. How incompetent. “You should have known better than–“ 

 

Ron couldn’t take it anymore. “I DIDN’T FEED THE BLOODY DOG ANY BLOODY CHOCOLATES!”� He yelled, “Your perfect little pooch stole them from the cupboard and ate them all by her bloody self! They were _mine_! And I needed them! So, stop yelling at me! I’m not an incompetent fool, like you make me out to be! Just because you’re a freaking genius doesn’t mean I’m stupid, Hermione! So stop making me seem like that! If you’re so obsessed with your dog why don’t you go marry her! Obviously I’m not good enough!”� 

 

“I never!”� Hermione gasped. 

 

“You did. You always have.”� Ron said in a dangerously quiet tone. 

 

Anger and hurt flashed in Hermione’s eyes. She swallowed hard. “That’s how you really feel then? I make you out to be an idiot? That’s what you think of me?”�

 

“Yeah.”� Ron said emphatically, “You know what? I really do. So, there. I’m leaving.”� With that, he stalked to the door and slammed it behind him as he left the flat. 

 

Hermione sighed at Ron’s melodramatic exit. She didn’t make him out to be an idiot, did she? She didn’t try to. She looked down at the sick dog in her arms. “Sleep it off tonight, alright Muffin, honey? I’ll take you to Diagon Alley first thing tomorrow morning, I promise.”� She put the dog down gently on her dog bed in the living room before going into the kitchen to toss out the candy bag wrapper. She sighed as she looked at it. 

 

She turned over the bag to look at the label. “Valentine Candies”� It read. Her heart jumped. Had Ron remembered Valentine’s Day? She’d hoped he would, but hadn’t expected him to. He could be rather oblivious. Oh, no. She was making him out to be an idiot. She threw the bag away and turned around. What could she eat? She went over to the freezer and opened it. No food in there. Nothing in the fridge, either. She turned to the food cabinets. There was some pasta she could make. She just needed to boil some water. 

 

Walking over to the cabinet with the pots and pans, she rubbed her aching shoulders. Ron would come back, wouldn’t he? He was just throwing a little fit. That was all. He’d be back in a couple hours. She should probably make dinner for him, too, then. Grabbing a pot, she noticed a brown bag in the back. Pulling it out, she found a few boxes at the bottom. Frozen food. It looked good, too. Why would it be in this cabinet, though? There was only one plausible answer. 

 

Ron. 

 

She peered into the cabinet, looking for anything else. Oh, there was something. She pulled out a couple plates lying near the back. Placing them on the counter, she noted the red candles and candle holders that were lying on top of the plates. Romantic? No. That wasn’t Ron? Was it?

 

Hermione sighed as she put the pot back and looked at the instructions for the dinner. She couldn’t concentrate on the words, though, for her mind kept drifting back to Ron and his angry outburst. She closed her eyes, trying to get Ron out of her mind. She kept drifting back to what he said, though. Was it true? Did she really make him feel like an idiot? She didn’t try to. He wasn’t stupid. He should know that. It was honestly all his fault. He didn’t have to blow up about it. But, then again, she should have been more considerate. 

 

Hermione moaned, rubbing her head. Was going to medical school not enough torture on the brain? She put the dinner away in the freezer and walked out of the kitchen. She stared longingly at the door. Where had he gone? When would he be back?

 

Sighing, she turned and walked down the short hallway to their room. Kicking the chairs out of the way, she entered the room. It was clean, for the most part. At least, her side was. She’d attempted to spruce up Ron’s end last weekend. It wasn’t a task meant for only one person she quickly found out. Going over to his side, she opened up the drawer on his bedside table, something she’d never done before. At the top was a picture frame. She pulled it out of the drawer and smiled. Harry had taken this picture of them a few years ago when they’d first started dating. Had it been that long? It was snowing and Ron was waving at the camera as Hermione dumped a snowball on his head. Oh, he’d gotten mad about that one. Putting the picture aside, she dug through the drawer. A few more pictures of his family, Hermione and Harry. Scraps of paper and receipts littered the drawer. Was that it? She dug deeper into the drawer. She was about to close it when her hand touched something. She latched onto it and pulled a small box out of the back corners of the drawer. Her hearth thudded as she slowly opened it. 

 

The room spun and Hermione suddenly felt extremely light-headed.

 

“Oh,”� she said quietly, swallowing hard. She closed the box and slowly leaned back on the bed. “Oh.”� 

 

\- - - 

 

“Harry!”� Ron cried as he knocked on his friend’s flat door. 

 

Ginny opened the door warily. “What happened, Ron?”� She asked, letting her brother in. 

 

Ron didn’t answer, but asked once more, “Where’s Harry?”� 

 

“In the den, but, Ron! Ron get back here!”� Ginny cried as her brother said not another word but sped off to the den. 

 

“Men,”� Ginny muttered, closing the door.

 

Ron pushed open the door to Harry and Ginny’s den. 

 

Harry looked up from a large pile of papers. “Hey mate. How’d it go?”� 

 

Ron sat down in a chair, immediately. “I didn’t ask her.”� He stood up once again and began pacing. “I’m an idiot. I blew up at her. She thought I fed that idiot dog of hers chocolates and she kept making these references as if I were a complete moron. I just got really and impatient about how nothing was working out right, and I yelled.”� 

 

“She kicked you out?”� 

 

“No. I walked out.”� 

 

“Well, at least we have a good start. So, next step.”� Harry looked expectantly at Ron.

 

“What?”� Ron asked, throwing his arms into the air, “Am I supposed to know? That’s why I came here!”� 

 

Harry sighed, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Go back,”� he said simply. 

 

“I can’t do that!”� Ron cried. 

 

“Why not?”�

 

“Because!”� He sputtered, “Be-because, I’m, er, I, um, can’t, uh, just, erm, I just bloody can’t.”� 

 

“Great reasoning, mate.”� 

 

“I just walked out on her!”� Ron said pointing at the door, “I can’t just go back in and profess undying love!”� 

 

“What’s the reason behind that one? Really, I’d like to know.”� 

 

Ron sighed again, sitting down in the chair once more. “Okay, so I haven’t got a reason. I just can’t.”� 

 

“It’s what you want to do, though, mate. You said yourself that she always made you out to be an idiot. Well, show her that you aren’t. You’re being stupid by standing here talking to me. Go!”� Harry cried, gesturing to the door. 

 

“Right!”� Ron said, pounding a fist into his palm. “I’ll do this.”� He walked out of the room, and closed the den door. Before Harry could look back down at his papers, though, Ron walked back in. “Can’t I stay a couple–“ 

 

“GO!”�

 

Ron’s eyes widened but he quickly left. He could do this. _He_ could do this. He could _do_ this. He just had to tell himself that the whole way back. 

 

\- - - 

 

Hermione heard someone fiddling with the front door. Heart pounding, she quickly stuffed the box into her pocket and went to the front door. Ron shut the door behind himself and stood in the middle of the living room. 

 

“Ron!”� Hermione exclaimed. Ron swallowed hard but didn’t say anything. Hermione looked wary, “Are you alright?”� Again, Ron didn’t reply. 

 

Hermione was about to take a step forward when Ron held a hand up. Taking a deep breath, he began quietly. “Hermione. Let me say this through. Please don’t interrupt. I just need to get this out in one piece. I love you, Mione. There’s no way to get around it. I’ve loved you for a long time now, but just recently have I realized what this really is. You’re perfect. You really are. I love everything about you, and honestly, I can’t imagine life without you. I don’t care how stupid I sound to you, or how idiotic you think I am. I know I can be a righteous prat sometime, and I’m not all that fond of Muffin, but I can learn. I will never feed her chocolate ever again, I promise. Don’t marry Muffin, Hermione. Marry me.”� 

 

Ron walked over to Hermione, and looking into her eyes the whole time, got down on one knee. Reaching into his pocket he felt around for the box that was supposed to be there. He froze when he didn’t feel it. He groped around in his pocket. No, not this. Not again. What had he done to deserve this? Had fate not already put him through every possible manner of torture today? This couldn’t be happening. 

 

He watched as Hermione reached into her own pocket and pulled out a small little box. Funny, it looked exactly like the one he was… oh, no. The color drained from Ron’s face as he saw his box in Hermione’s hands. He’d left it in his drawer. That’s what he had done. She must have gone through it after he left. She was thinking about him? 

 

“Looking for this?”� Hermione asked quietly, a smile spread across her face. 

 

Ron didn’t trust himself to speak, so he merely nodded. Taking the box from her outstretched hand he opened it in front of her and pulled out the ring. Holding it up to her, he asked quietly, “Hermione? Will you marry me?”� 

 

She held out her hand in reply, and he slipped it on her finger. Standing up, he was embraced in a fierce hug. 

 

“I love you, Ron,”� She said into his shoulder. 

 

“This was supposed to be the perfect Valentine’s Day. Ginny was going to help me cook. I was going to write, “I love you”� in chocolates inside a marshmallow heart. I was going to set up a romantic dinner with candles, and I was going to propose. You were going to say yes, and we were going to live happily ever after. 

 

“This is the world’s best Valentine’s Day, Ron. You’re all I need.”� 

 

That’s when Ron kissed her. It was a foot-popping, heart-wrenching, deep, intense, fiery, pushed-against-the-wall, all-out, till-death-do-us-part kiss. And it was the only thing that went right.


End file.
